Royally Screwed
by Radie
Summary: The only thing worse than being held captive by assassins is being greeted with a full-scale invasion the second you're released.
1. The Pharaoh

To say Khalid was mad was the equivalent of saying that Rokkaku Gouji wasn't very nice.

In fact, Ishaq took one look at his face and decided that it was safe to assume he was going to choke the first thing he got a hold of as soon as the cell door swung open. While his brothers urged him on from the safety of the other end of the room, he was eye-to-eye with the infuriated Pharaoh, a lump forming in his throat as he froze like a dog caught in the headlights of an oncoming tractor-trailer. He may have found power in the name "The Immortals" while on the street, but in the face of his boss, he didn't want to push his luck.

"Come on, Ishaq. It's just the Pharaoh. Don't you think he wants out?"

He swallowed, his hands shaking so violently that the keys almost fell out of his fingers. Khalid was pressed against the bars, dark hair overgrown and unkempt, his clothes tattered and splattered with dried blood from the day he was captured. Two months in Golden Rhino custody, and you could hardly tell the glorious King of Pharaoh Park from a crazy homeless guy dragged out of the back alleys of Highway Zero.

His bedraggled appearance only enhanced how dangerous he looked; he reminded him of a cornered, starving dog. His dark eyes never blinked, focused solely on Ishaq as he trembled and stammered and looked over his shoulder at the others in hopes that maybe they'd man up and save the rookie in distress. When he took too long, a thin arm lashed out from between the bars and snagged him by the wrist, overgrown nails tearing into the bandages wrapped around his arm.

"_Open the damn door, Ishaq_."

"M-maybe I should tell you good news so you don't kill me, Your Majesty?" the terrified rookie suggested, trying in vain to wriggle free of the Pharaoh. Khalid tightened his grip and snarled.

"I can _guess_ that the good news is that the Golden Rhinos and the Noise Tanks are FUBAR, otherwise you cowards wouldn't be here to get me out. Now, _open the damn door, Ishaq._"

"Y-y-yes, Your Majesty!" Ishaq squalled, fumbling with the keys as Khalid released his grip. His mind was far too rattled to allow him to figure out which key was which, or even if the right key was in the mess he held. After busting down the door of the Rhinos' abandoned headquarters, which turned out to be a warehouse in Rokkaku-Dai, they had just grabbed the first set of keys that were hanging next to the entrance and hoped it would work.

The most frustrating part was that there were at _least_ twenty keys, and a total of three cells, only one of which with an occupant. Ishaq briefly toyed the idea of the Rhinos having a metric fuck-ton of extras just to mess with anyone dumb enough to plan a prison break, and after a few moments of trial and error with the lock, he looked up to the Pharaoh and whined in a mixture of frustration and terror.

"Come on, Ishaq!" a voice behind him bellowed. "Just 'cause the bulk of the Rhinos packed up and went home doesn't mean some stragglers won't be in behind us."

"Sh-shut up, O-Odji! I-I-I'm doing the best I can!"

"Your best isn't good enough."

"For the love of Osiris, Odji, shut the fuck up and let the kid think!" Khalid roared, slamming against the bars with whatever strength he had left. In the back of the room, a short, rail-thin boy ducked down low and tried to hide his face behind his fedora. Almost like he was contaminated, the last Immortal slowly edged away from him, cautiously approaching Ishaq, who was as still as a statue and fairly certain that his heart had stopped.

"Come on, Ishaq," a gentle, raspy voice coaxed. "Give me the keys."

His face was blank with terror, his movements stiff and zombie-like. Nevertheless, Ishaq rigidly opened his fingers and dropped the ring of keys into the palm of his taller, far more composed comrade. Slowly, he glided to the far wall and slumped to the floor beside Odji, gazing up at Khalid in unmitigated horror.

"Good kid," the calm Immortal sighed as he thumbed through the keys. "Very devoted. He did everything he could for the Golden Rhinos to keep them from shooting you, you know. Even things he thought he wouldn't be able to."

Slowly, Khalid's eyebrow raised. Watching as his underling tried the remaining keys, he cocked his head and drawled, "What _kind_ of things, Sabola?"

Sabola stopped long enough to look up, a flash of concern flickering in his eyes for a split second before he fought it off and replaced it with his typical carefree demeanor. Shrugging, he turned back to his job with the keys and chuckled, "Oh, you know. Stuff."

"You're as bad at telling half-truths as you are at telling whole lies."

Realizing that the last key was a dud, Sabola turned back to Odji and Ishaq, silently bidding them to go fetch the next ring from next to the door. Odji ignored it in hopes that Ishaq would leap into action, but the poor traumatized rookie didn't even seem to notice anything was amiss. Huffing a sigh, Odji pushed himself away from the wall, skates clacking against the cold, concrete ground as he made his way to the entrance.

"It was nothing much," Sabola stated after an awkward pause, his voice cracking. "Just the expected stuff. Like, keeping an eye out for threats. Or, you know, stealing the turf of every gang in Kogane-cho and most of Benten. And, kidnapping! Oh, you know how the Rhinos love to kidnap people."

The silence that answered him was all the answer he needed. He didn't even have to look to know that Khalid was staring daggers at him, because he could feel the hate being beamed straight into the top of his head. Instead of daring to face the Pharaoh, Sabola simply stayed low and silent until he heard Odji return, turning to face him with a jubilant cry of, "Awesome! Now let's get that door open!"

"Kidnapping?" Khalid repeated dumbly. Odji paused at the sound of this, looking incredulously at Sabola and mumbling, "I thought we weren't going to tell him that."

"_Kidnapping?"_ Khalid's voice was high and shrill now, despite his normal baritone. Odji furrowed his brows and glared at Sabola, who only grinned nervously as he lunged forward and grabbed the keys from the shorter Immortal. He turned with a small chuckle, offering a shrug as he plucked a random silver key out of the bunch and started wrestling with the cell lock yet again.

"Well, you know, when _highly trained assassins_ sweep in with robots, steal your leader, and tell you to snatch some people off of the streets or they'll blow you _and_ your Pharaoh into bits so small that Osiris wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of the mess, you tend to listen," he explained slowly. "We may or may not have plucked the GGs off of the street and turned them into the Noise Tanks. It's okay, though. They're safe. They escaped during a chaotic moment, and then laid the smackdown on Rokkaku."

"And you guys just sat there? And did nothing?"

"We let them use Sky Dinosaurian Square to dispose of the Noise Tanks," Ishaq offered in a small, timid voice from his seat on the floor. Odji nodded enthusiastically, adding, "Yeah, we did. Although, after we started slacking in defending Sky Dinosaurian, it did end up..."

As soon as he started talking, he realized he shouldn't have said anything. Ishaq looked up at him with quiet terror, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them like a frightened child. Both of the younger Immortals looked to Khalid and, noticing the disapproving look on his face at the mention of an "although," trailed off into nothing. Sabola sighed after the sixth key refused to work, grumbling, "You may as well tell him. He's gonna find out anyway."

"Find out _what_?" Khalid snarled. "What? Did you _give_ the GGs a chunk of our turf or some shit?"

"No," Odji drawled, turning around to face the opposite direction. "But, uh, we've been challenged, Your Majesty. Our entire territory, from the far edge of the skyscraper district to the market street just off of Highway Zero, has been unceremoniously... t-tagged. After the Noise Tanks' fall, Sky Dinosaurian was th-the first to go."

"_What!"_

It wasn't even a question more than a roar of rage, their imprisoned leader kicking the door with such force that Sabola lost his footing and fell flat on his ass. There was a tense moment in which Odji mumbled incoherently and began to edge from the room, Ishaq raising his voice in an effort to speak over the screaming Pharaoh to explain how things really weren't _that_ bad. Sabola watched, bemused, as all of this took place, their argument resonating through the metal rafters.

It was a valiant effort on behalf of Ishaq, the poor guy, who was trying to make everyone see things from a sunny enough perspective that they wouldn't kill one another when the Pharaoh was finally released. Odji, on the other hand, was failing miserably. It was funny how, under the reign of the Noise Tanks, he had been full of piss and vinegar, yet the second Khalid was reintroduced into the equation, the only _piss_ he had was staining his shorts.

Figuratively, of course.

He never understood why Odji feared Khalid, just as he never understood how Ishaq inherited that fear considering how downright _kind_ Khalid was to him. It wasn't as though their Pharaoh was a bad guy. Gruff, maybe, and rightfully irritated considering what he had been through, but Sabola had never known him to be a vicious person.

Seeing that none of them were going to offer any further explanation that would be of merit, instead screaming themselves hoarse in an effort to drown the other two out, he stood up and resumed his quest for the correct key. It wasn't long before Khalid seemed to realize that their "conversation" was going nowhere, and ended up leaning down to ask him for clarification.

"What the hell is going on, Sab?" he demanded.

The Immortal sniffed and replied, "Well, if you wanna know, the Doom Riders challenged us for our turf. There are tags in places I never thought anyone could get to without killing themselves, and we've not been able to properly clean up yet. More pressing matters to attend to, such as _you_, Your Majesty."

Khalid raised an eyebrow, echoing, "Doom Riders? Who the hell are the Doom Riders?"

"Good question," Ishaq nervously interjected. Odji shrugged, adding, "We have no idea, Your Majesty. They just kind of _happened_."

"We wouldn't have known their name if not for Professor K," Sabola continued, tapping his ear piece. "I don't think they're from Tokyo-to. They came in with the Noise Tanks to participate in a Death Ball tournament, and never left. And it isn't as though we're singled out, Your Majesty. There isn't an inch of the entire city that they haven't tagged, right down to the most inaccessible parts of the sewers. Weird guys, and that's saying a lot coming from a dude who dresses up like a dead man in suspenders for shits and giggles."

There was a satisfying click as the thirteenth key worked its magic and the door slowly began to swing open. Khalid stood there for a moment in shock, Ishaq waiting for his initial prediction of sudden strangulation to come true. Instead, their Pharaoh merely threw his arms up and let out a triumphant cry before stumbling over his feet and nearly falling flat on his face. He caught himself on the bars of the cell and straightened his posture, looking down at Sabola and snorting, "Well, I guess I can forgive you for being a total failure in my absence, considering that you got me out."

"Our pleasure, Your Majesty."

"Now," he sighed, staggering to Ishaq and snaking an arm around his shoulder, "help me walk. I wasted everything I had beating on that door when you guys told me how stupid you were, so I dunno if I'll have the energy to get outta here without being _dragged_."


	2. The Queen

Blitz adjusted her ear piece and stared dumbly down at her plate of sushi, shoving it weakly with her chopsticks every now and again to give the illusion that she was eating. The other members of Rapid 99 were too busy making a scene to realize that their leader was completely out of it, the youngest of the crew barking along with the music playing over the radio. Her singing voice lacked much to be desired and, considering the fact it wasn't proper etiquette anyway, nobody seemed amused. Their poor chef seemed insulted enough that he was ready to turn them out.

Not that any of them cared. Rudies don't abide by common etiquette, and nobody in the joint had the balls to give the boot to the Queens of 99th Street on their Saturday night out. That much the girls knew, and that much they would abuse.

It was funny. Here they were, partying on the weekend like nothing had happened, when, not even a week ago, there had been a tower that was moved from the skeleton of the Rokkaku Expo Stadium that almost wiped Tokyo of whatever spirit it had left. A tower, Blitz thought with a sigh, that she had watched be extracted, yet she never had the time to warn the other Rudies before the freaky broadcasts began. She couldn't help but feel as though she had let the others down, even if she hated half of them and only tolerated the rest.

In the end, when it came down to it, Professor K had been right during his victory broadcast: They were just one giant radio brotherhood. Sure, siblings didn't always get along and sometimes they fought and spat and mopped the floor with one another.

However, you look out for them. Blitz had failed in that regard. She could have said something, she _should _have said something. The second she noticed that tower being built, she should have slipped some info to DJ K and had him spread the word. Maybe, if they had acted in time, Rokkaku wouldn't have even had the opportunity to set up shop.

But then, wouldn't she have ended up like a certain _other_ gang leader? She shuddered at the thought, remembering the day that the Immortals went from "quiet neighbors" to "criminal masterminds" overnight. Sometimes, it was better to just keep your head down and your mouth shut.

"Wasabi!" one her girls called, raising her hand and smiling at the chef. "Could I get some more wasabi? My, uh, sister kinda..."

"I ate it all!" a second Rapid 99er taunted, leaning in close enough to the first that one could have sworn they would kiss. "Delicious wasabi, and it's all mine. Watch your plate, or I'll get your ginger, too."

"Twister, you are a criminal mastermind. I'm surprised Gouji didn't abduct you to be his Adviser of Evil and play Risk with him on Sunday afternoons."

"He was scared of how villainous I was," Twister responded, plucking what was left of her sister's ginger from her plate. She sighed, raised her hand once more, and sweetly requested of the chef, "Could I get some more ginger too, please? Thank-you."

Blitz smiled, though it faded quick. She supposed it was time for celebration, to be "free" once again. The Rokkaku police were gone, the Golden Rhinos were gone. There weren't snipers on every corner and she didn't have to worry about a flock of Noise Tanks storming down the highway again. The only thing she really had to worry about were the rival gangs.

And boy, did every gang in Tokyo find a new rival or what? She had no idea who they were or where they came from. She just remembered hearing a Jet Set Radio broadcast detailing some "bone headed bikers" who were drowning Tokyo-to in aerosol, then found the entirety of 99th Street doused in paint. Her girls had done the best that they could to cover it, though some of the distant corners probably still hid that nasty "artwork" of the mysterious gang.

She had even taken her right-hand-woman, Tornado, to assess the damage in other areas of the city. The skyscraper district was blazing with red and yellow, there were tags in Sky Dinosaurian that she didn't even think people were capable of making, graffiti lined the streets of Dogenzaka, and even the furthest reaches of Kibogaoka Hill had found themselves trashed. Whoever it was had went so far as to claim the sewers, something that Poison Jam hated almost as much as the fact that Rapid 99 dared to show their faces in their territory.

There was no rest, not for Rudies. One problem always inevitably led to another. As much as she wanted to celebrate, a mixture of guilt and pessimism-inspired stress kept her from it. Beyond letting down the Rudies and having a gang more ambitious than even the _GGs_ walking all over her toes...

"What's wrong, chick?"

She looked up to see that the sister of the wasabi bandit had cared to join her, probably in an effort to dodge her sibling's food stealing prowess. Blitz shook her head and offered a weak smile, mumbling, "Eh, it's nothing, Tornado. I'm just thinking."

"Is the food bad?"

"No. I _think_ the food's great. Maybe? I haven't really eaten any of it."

"You probably should. It's an insult not to."

Blitz looked up at the chef, noticed his cold stare, and in an effort to appease both him and her underling, popped a piece and got to chewing. She nodded approvingly, plucking up a second.

"So," Tornado coughed, gagged on a piece of rice, "is this about that fuckin' tower thing? Are you _still_ moping about that? 'Cause, you know, it ain't no biggie. They fixed everything, and Gouji is now singing show tunes with the worms. Besides, you know what happened when the leader of the Immortals tried to warn people, yeah? I hear they _still_ haven't found that guy."

Blitz's stomach twisted into a knot.

"You know," her subordinate continued, gesturing with her chopsticks, "I bet you _money_ that the Golden Rhinos dragged him out to some out-of-the-way place and shot him. I bet you in a month or two, they find his remains floating in the reservoir or some shit. Half-buried in a ditch in Kogane-cho. Or, oh! Wasn't he related to the guy who built Pharaoh Park? Some rich Egyptian dude gets his nephew's head in a box. Holy _shit_. That would be some _Godfather_ stuff right there!"

And there went her appetite.

It wasn't that Blitz liked the Immortals; they trespassed often, were pretty hard to get along with, and the way they had presented themselves had always creeped her out. However, somehow, the idea of one of them getting killed stung like salt in an open wound. Maybe it was the fact that they had actually showcased themselves as immortal and behaved as though they were impervious to everything the streets threw at them. That made the idea of their leader being murdered all the more sobering because it felt like, if it could happen to him, it could have happened to _anybody_.

"Or maybe it ain't that," Tornado drawled with her mouth full. "There's only one other thing I can guess that'd be irkin' you so bad. You still mad about the Doom Riders?"

Blitz perked up a bit, smirking as she chuckled, "Wait. _That's_ their name?"

"Yup. Doom Riders."

"Geez, and I thought that _Poison Jam_ was terrible. 'Doom Riders' just strikes me as screaming, 'Hi, we're trying _way_ too hard.'"

Tornado shrugged, struggling to stifle a giggle as she responded, "Always sounded borderline rated X to me. Like they're gettin' it on with the Grim Reaper on weekends. You know: 'Oh baby, I'mma ride Doom _all night long_.'"

"Wasn't 'Doom' the name of one Poison Jam's ilk?" a voice piped from behind Blitz. She turned slowly to see the youngest, Zephyr, standing there with a grin on her face. Her question was answered by Twister from the other end of the bar, who snorted and replied, "I think so, but I'm pretty sure she quit the gang and moved back to Grind City."

"Oh, so that's why these new guys are throwing a tantrum," Tornado whimpered, pouting. "Poor widdle guys. Their girly-friend broke up wiff them."

There was a moment of silence as they all tried to mimic her faux sympathy, though their attempts ended when Zephyr began choking on her laughter. Before long, the entire group was in hysterics, an act that had every normal patron in the bar utterly disturbed. Tornado climbed from her seat and stretched, shaking her head and happily sighing, "That is my new favorite conspiracy theory and there's not a damn thing anyone can do to change that."

Murmurs of agreement answered, and soon Blitz found her worry drowned in a sea of trash talk, laughter, and babbling about how it probably wasn't the best idea for Twister to eat an entire glob of wasabi without anything to go with it. Their chef groaned and mumbled something about having them kicked out regardless of the consequences, only to have a worried coworker whisper back something about the _last_ time they denied them service. A few customers got up and left as Tornado stood up and loudly toasted the brave Doom Riders for going where "no man has gone before," leading to witch-like cackling from the rest of the group.

Then, as quickly as her mood was raised, it was killed. It started as a hiss, a fizzle in Blitz's earpiece that interrupted the sound of music and replaced it with a sudden, unexpected announcement from a familiar, booming voice. Her brows furrowed and her smile fell; Professor K didn't usually cut off a song, unless it was something big.

"Blastin' the music that fuels the streets, and the news those streets create! This ain't yo' momma's golden oldies! This is Jet Set Radioooo!"

"News?" Tornado echoed, picking up a pair of headphones from around her neck and lifting them to her ears. Blitz herself fiddled with the volume on her own radio, adjusting her earphone so that she could decently hear. Zephyr and Twister fell silent, watching Blitz and Tornado with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Yo, my people! Put down them forks and listen up, 'cause I got a tale that'll make you lose your lunch."

Almost on cue, every member of Rapid 99 dropped their chopsticks.

"No rest for the wicked, so it seems. Just last week, Gouji went down in a blaze of _ugly_, and before we even had a chance to blink, them bone-headed bikers, the Doom Riders, started a Tokyo-wide tag war that landed 'em at the top of everyone's hit list. Boys need to take an art class, you know what I'm sayin', 'cause havin' to look at that mess was more painful than gettin' roughed up by the Rhinos. I mean, _puh-lease!"_

The girls clustered together, Zephyr and Twister leaning in as close as they could to make sure they did not miss a word. Blitz, as per usual, seemed troubled by whatever was going to be said_ before_ it was said, though Tornado only rolled her hand in the air in boredom. She had heard this all before, lived through it, and spent three days trying to fix 99th Street. She didn't need a news bulletin that the Doom Riders were talentless jerks.

"Now, you'd think when the common trait of all of the Rudies is hatin' these guys, the Doom Riders would know they've worn out their welcome, and it _seemed_ they picked up the hint after the GGs whipped 'em at Dogenzaka. However, it looks like they were just taking a few days off to regroup, 'cause now they're back on the streets to finish what they started. And their first direct target? It seems the first gang who fell to the Noise Tanks in act one of this drama is getting a second dose of hurt from their toadies-left-behind. Hopefully, the Immortals will continue to live up to their name. Ha ha!"

Tornado pouted as she took off her headphones, rolling her eyes as the newest single started up on the station. Blitz knew exactly what was wrong: She was disappointed that the Doom Riders were after the scrawny jerks next door instead of picking a fight with _them_. No police crackdowns and no gang battles had left her pretty bored, as Rapid 99 even seemed to have gotten slighted when it came to Rokkaku's reign of crazy.

She sat down and picked up a piece of sushi between her fingers, loudly announcing that the Doom Riders' choice of targets was shit, before popping it in her mouth and continuing on in an incoherent tirade with her mouth full. Zephyr shrugged and sat down next to her, plucking a slice of ginger off of her plate and spinning around in her stool.

Twister only shifted her weight uncomfortably. With a sniff, she glanced at her disappointed sister, her indifferent leader, and the chick infringing on her ginger-stealing position. She cleared her throat once, but when nobody paid any attention to her, she blurted, "Let's go anyway."

The only person who didn't look at her like she was crazy was Tornado, whose eyes lit up at the prospect of having something interesting happen for a change. Zephyr only chewed her lip, a quizzical look dawning on her. However, she didn't even have the chance to ask what she was obviously thinking before Blitz blurted it for her: "Why the _hell_ would we do that?"

"Well," Twister drawled, "we share a border with the skyscraper district, so if the Doom Riders are there, who is to say they won't be _here_ pretty soon?"

"Twister," Blitz snapped, head slowly tilting to the side, "the skyscraper district is fucking huge, and the Immortals run _three_ different sects in Benten-cho. For all we know, the Doom Riders could be trashing Highway Zero and are nowhere near us."

Zephyr nodded in firm agreement, crunching happily on the remainder of Tornado's ginger. Just before she snatched the last piece, Tornado slapped her hand and scooted her plate away, while protesting, "But they _could_ be right next door. Besides, who cares if they aren't? Aren't you still kinda reeling about not doing anything about Rokkaku when you had the chance? Not helping out?"

"You could help out," Twister suggested, grinning. Blitz turned away and sighed, grumbling, "Uh, problem with that being it would be _trespassing_. And we would be in _deep _shit. Or do you just casually forget the code of the street?"

"But, Blitz..."

"No! Shut it!"

Twister and Tornado rolled their eyes at one another, but quieted. Still, their sulking did nothing to help Blitz, whose mood was further soured by the idea of her girls being mad at her. Resting her forehead in her palm, she pushed around what was left of her food once more.

Zephyr, however, happily hummed and continuing spinning around in her stool. Kicking her feet, she giggled, "Well, you know, we could always go to The Border and see if we can catch sight of the fight. If we can't be a part of it, we can at least make it a matinee experience."

Tornado's head shot up, and she turned to face Blitz with renewed hope. Hot pink lips slowly widened into a smile as, with a dreamy sigh, Blitz looked up to her underling and finally relented: "Okay, fine. But we stay on _our_ side."

"Fucking _sweet_!" Tornado yelped, jumping up and tousling Zephyr's hair. The youngest Rapid 99er squeaked in alarm and then fretted with her pigtails in an attempt to put them back in place, as Tornado skipped past Blitz to her sister and gave her a victory high-five. Slowly, Blitz pushed herself from her seat and tossed a handful of bills on the counter.

Throwing her thumb over her shoulder and turning toward the door, she called, "C'mon. Before I change my mind."


	3. The Signs

The journey from Rokkaku-Dai to the skyscraper district had been fraught with danger, even if that danger was born from trying to get service at a Burger Joint while in full Immortal regalia. In the end, Khalid couldn't tell if he was amused or frustrated, and instead of sending in poor Ishaq to beg for fries at the sixth place they trekked past, he had vouched to simply go back to their headquarters, rinse off until he smelled decent, change clothes, and hit up the Inpu Diner at Pharaoh Park. He figured he was making the right choice when he saw the look of relief on the poor rookie's face, even if his stomach seemed to be making an earnest attempt to eat itself.

It was odd, sitting around the table with his gang for the first time in two months, none of them clad in the costume that defined their street personas. Gauze and fedoras were exchanged for hoodies and headphones, Sabola playing with his purple hair like he had forgotten what it looked like and Odji bemoaning the fact that the only time he _could_ wear his piercings was when he was "off duty." Every now and then, he'd stop complaining long enough to smack at Ishaq, who was picking at cuts and bruises on his arm while pondering aloud where they could have possibly come from.

Khalid caught a glimpse of himself in his third empty glass of soda. He looked like a shaggy-haired wreck that hadn't slept in days and was running off of a mixture of adrenaline, Dayquil, and caffeine. He snorted a laugh in spite of himself when he realized that he looked _exactly_ how he felt.

"About the Doom Riders," Sabola loudly proclaimed, trying to talk over the younger Immortals' rambling. Khalid pushed his empty plate away from him and leaned back in his seat, rolling his hand in the air to urge him along. The second-in-command opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by Odji, who was cut off by Ishaq, who was cut off by Odji again. In the end, a stern glare from Khalid shut the two of them up and they sank into their seats, Odji appearing slightly annoyed whereas Ishaq was sweating like he had a gun to his temple.

"_As I was saying_, the Doom Riders are an enigma to us. They showed up when the Noise Tanks arranged a Death Ball tournament, which was an oddity in and of itself. We were being blackmailed to participate, and the Love Shockers and GGs had been kidnapped and _forced_ to play. Even a nearby straggler was dragged into it against her will. But the Doom Riders..."

"They showed up willingly," Odji blurted, Khalid raising an eyebrow. The Pharaoh sniffed and cocked his head, asking, "Why would they do that?"

"Less a 'why' and more a 'how,'" Sabola explained. "If it was just a 'why,' I'd understand it; there's a lot of good rep to be gained from winning a tourney. But the Noise Tanks didn't announce it. Not even Rapid 99 knew of it until the police crashed the game, but the Doom Riders―despite not even being a Tokyo-based gang, as far as I can tell―showed up to 'prove their mettle.'"

Ishaq squirmed in his seat, mumbling, "Then they lost. They said that they were implanted with a mind-altering chip or something, but that's a load of bull. We lost, too, and nobody did brain surgery on us. Hell, the Love Shockers were almost immediately released after the GGs whipped them."

How strange. Khalid popped his knuckles and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a sigh. None of this made any sense to him, something magnified by the fact that he had been _literally_ left in the dark during the duration of the conflict. Still, he figured that even if he _was_ up-to-date, it still wouldn't make any sense. His boys had been there and seen everything, and even they seemed utterly lost.

"Maybe none of this is important, though," Sabola added with a shrug. "Professor K knew who they were, and Tokyo is a big place. Maybe they're just a gang we never ran across. And, hey, he knew about the tournament, too, and somebody had to have given him the tip. Maybe there was an information leak and the Doom Riders heard it through the grapevine, never realizing what they were getting into."

"Maybe," Khalid replied, rapping his fingers on the table and eying Ishaq's leftover fries. The rookie noticed it and, with a weak smile, offered the plate to his Pharaoh. Khalid accepted with a grateful nod, stuffing a few in his mouth and taking a deep breath of contentment. He hoped his stomach didn't rupture with how much he was cramming into his face.

"What does matter is that they're pretty much trying to own Tokyo," Sabola grimly continued. "They've called everyone out. The GGs, Poison Jam, Rapid 99, the Love Shockers,_ us_. There isn't a district in the city that isn't desperately in need of a cover-up, but I guess you saw that on the way here, huh?"

He downed the last of Ishaq's fries and shrugged. He couldn't deny that he saw new graffiti on the way to Pharaoh Park, but he didn't pay much attention to it. Delirium, irritation, and hunger pretty much meant that the only thing he _really_ gave any mind to was his own good self. For all he knew, it could have been the tags of the residential gangs.

"There's a lot that bothers me about that, aside from the obvious fact that it is going to be a raging bitch to clean up Sky Dinosaurian," his right-hand-man grunted, apparently irritated with the latter part of that statement. "These five guys covered Tokyo _overnight_ and not a damn person saw 'em do it. Not one. And then they vanished."

"Save for one time," Odji corrected, kicking back in his seat and offering Khalid the uneaten half of his burger. "According to Jet Set Radio, two of them popped up in Dogenzaka Hill to challenge one of the GGs to a showdown. They got their asses handed to them and then, poof! Gone."

Ishaq started to nod and agree, but before he could say a word, a familiar beat picked up in the headphones around his neck. At first, he almost mistook it for a bump, and let it play off as though nothing was happening, ignoring the sound of DJ K's voice droning just below his ears. However, as seconds ticked past, he realized it was going on a bit too long for a commercial.

His comrades oblivious, Ishaq angled his head toward the left headphone. It was hard, however, to keep up with the Immortals' conversation _and_ DJ K's announcement, and he simply ended up pulling them on completely.

"...irst direct target? It seems the first gang who fell to the Noise Tanks in act one of this drama is getting a second dose of hurt from their toadies-left-behind. Hopefully, the Immortals will continue to live up t..."

Eyes widened as he immediately slipped them off, the crew jumping when the normally quiet rookie slammed his hands into the table and barked, "We gotta go! _Now!_"

Khalid blinked slowly and opened his mouth to say something, though he soon slammed it closed and shook his head. It was Sabola who asked the looming question, as Ishaq squirmed around in his seat like a kid who had to pee. Tilting his head and raising an eyebrow, he curiously asked, "What is it, brother?"

Ishaq only gestured wildly at his headphones. Panic had seized both him _and _his tongue, robbing him of any and all ability to convey thoughts by any means aside from charades. Odji, ever the helpful one, snorted and asked if the clue was "dumb ass," Sabola answering by digging his bony elbow so far into Odji's ribs that he could have swore he felt it in his lung. Ishaq didn't even acknowledge any of it, though he did upgrade from wild flailing to incomprehensible stammering after a couple of seconds.

"W-we... the-the-they...! W-w-w-w-we...! Outside! Outside!"

Khalid cocked an eyebrow, his expression as stoic as ever. In a level, calm voice, he inquired, "Did the radio say something was up?"

"Yes!" Ishaq responded, the word coming out with a hoarse sigh of relief.

"Something's up?" Sabola echoed. "Where?"

"Here!"

The rookie's voice came out in a scratchy squeal of alarm, cuing Odji to cackle wildly. Khalid, however, was less than amused. Though still rather bedraggled and obviously not at the top of his game, the look in his eyes screamed that he was going to at least _try_ to fuck somebody up. Almost as a direct response to the Pharaoh's reaction, Sabola leaped from his seat and chimed, "I think we can handle this, right men?"

Odji mumbled an unenthusiastic agreement, beginning to slide up from his seat. Ishaq fumbled with his words, though he eventually agreed that, yeah, he could handle it. Before he could turn to their leader and urge him to sit back down and finish their food, Khalid was up and gliding toward the door. Immediately, a knot formed in his stomach and he turned to Sabola; he was the calmest Immortal, always keeping his cool in even the worst situation. Surely, he would know how to handle this!

And indeed he did. He squawked like a parrot, stumbled over his skates, almost flipped the table, and―after he finally caught his footing―took off after Khalid, begging him frantically to stop before he got himself killed. Odji followed close behind, adding that Ishaq hadn't even told them who it was that was attacking their turf. As Khalid slipped out of the exit and into Pharaoh Park, Odji's words of caution morphed into words his mother wouldn't be too proud to hear, roared at a volume that caused _everyone_ in the restaurant to look up from their meals.

Then, there was Ishaq, standing alone by a messy table with a look of utter horror on his face. A nearby waiter glared at him and cleared his throat; without his gear on, the guy had no idea who it was he was messing with. If only he knew it was an Immortal...

_Hell,_ Ishaq thought with a sigh_, stop kidding yourself. Even if he knew you were an Immortal, it's pretty apparent that you're the bitch_.

He forced a smile and laughed nervously, reaching into the baggy sleeve of his pullover and pulling a golden, engraved bangle over his hand. Sure, it was one of his trademark pieces of jewelry, but he wasn't the one who was supposed to have paid for dinner. Hell, he didn't even have his wallet on him.

Lifting it so that the waiter could see, he chuckled, "Uh, hope you don't mind me paying in gold, bro."

The waiter wasn't amused, but Ishaq didn't give him time to object. By the time the bracelet clattered to the table, the smell of fuel filled the air. People screamed as he roared past them, the intense heat of his getaway leaving scorch marks on the floor that would likely _never_ wear out.

Still, they didn't catch him, and that was all that mattered. Sometimes, it was _good_ to have rocket skates.


	4. The Invaders

The night air was cool, crisp, but far from clean. The air was _never_ clean in Tokyo, especially not as high up as they were. It smelled like car exhaust and industry, coupled with the weird odor of heated plastic, courtesy of the brilliant cyan tube lights laced throughout the park. However, the people on the street didn't seem to mind. They walked back and forth like hamsters in a cage, stopping occasionally to shoot the shit or tie their shoes.

The fact that they were so calm was Khalid's first sign that something was amiss. If somebody was here trying to start shit with the Immortals, they should have been screaming about phantom injuries, shaking their fists in the air, and standing there indignantly while wondering what was _wrong_ with young people today. The mere sight of somebody on wheels should have sent them into an utter frenzy, but here they were...

... Just... _fine and dandy_.

When Sabola and Odji stepped out behind him, they seemed equally perplexed. Perhaps not as confused as Ishaq, however, who stumbled out of the restaurant, panting. He looked around wordlessly, gasping for air, though his heaving eventually tapered off into something much quieter. There was a moment of silence as he straightened his posture and jerked his head from right to left, to right again.

"What the _fuck_?" he finally squalled. "Where are the Doom Riders? There's _nobody_ here!"

"Not unless they're up on the scrapers or at the observatory," Sabola mumbled with a shake of his head, "but if somebody was aiming to mess with us, why would they do it someplace where we couldn't see?"

"Chickenshits," Odji growled. "And here I was getting all excited about a fight."

"Maybe we should split up and check the scrapers."

"Maybe we should just go back inside and finish our fuckin' dinner."

"Not a good idea," Ishaq nervously chuckled, holding up his now bare wrist. "They don't like gold as a payment, and _you_ left before footin' the bill."

"It was an emergency, okay?" Odji barked. "Geez, you're a whiny fuck."

The two began to squabble, Odji being unnecessarily abrasive and poor Ishaq stuck attempting to talk him back down to Earth. Sabola intervened yet again, trying desperately to force a chill pill down their throats so that they didn't attract attention to themselves. Khalid simply ignored them, huffing and leaning against the sandstone pillar that held up Inpu's giant head, gazing up from where he stood to the looming buildings above them.

He could see traces of Sabola's cover-up graffiti on billboards and walls, and a little of Odji's handiwork on the hotel across the square from where he stood. The obelisks were untouched, the glowing pyramids tarnished only by the Immortal's own tags, and nobody around him looked particularly suspicious. However, DJ K reported it, and it wasn't like he was psychic. Perhaps Ishaq misheard, or perhaps the offenders were in another sect of Benten that was under their control.

"You implied when you broke me out that you guys hadn't tried to clean up Dinosaurian yet, yeah?" he asked slowly. Sabola turned from holding Odji away from Ishaq, Odji using his newfound freedom to tackle the rookie. Sniffing, Sabola crossed his arms over his chest and replied, "Yeah, we haven't even bothered. We're kind of putting it off. _Nobody_ wants to be responsible for reclaiming that place."

"And Highway Zero?"

"We haven't even finished _here_ yet, so we haven't started on Zero, no."

Khalid sighed and looked away, up to the overpass. If it_ was_ the Doom Riders, there would be no need for them to go anywhere _but_ Pharaoh Park, not if Sky Dinosaurian and Highway Zero were still plastered with their signatures. That is, not unless they were either stupidly persistent or persistently stupid. He combed his fingers into his hair and let out a deep sigh, turning up to the skyscrapers and observatory yet again: no sparks, no sign of somebody boosting across a gap, not even the sound of somebody hollering like a heathen. It was dead, empty. Perhaps the Doom Riders_ were_ stupidly persistent after all.

"Ugh, forget it!" Odji growled, turning loose of Ishaq and raising his hands into the air in surrender. "Let's just go back to HQ, forget this shit happened, and check for damage tomorrow. I am tired. I am pissed off. I wanna punch things. It is not good for me to be here right now."

"I'm with him," Ishaq mumbled, rubbing a now-bruised jaw. Khalid exhaled deeply and slowly nodded; he was tired and angry, too, and all he wanted to do now that he had eaten his fill was pass out. No sooner had he opened his mouth to dismiss his boys, however, did he hear the faint clicking of skates on stone. Jaw still hanging open, he slowly turned back up to the overpass, watching as a set of squat, shadowy figures ripped in from the direction of 99th Street.

Ishaq's eyes grew wide with worry, Odji grinning as he snickered, "Well, whadya know? They were just late."

"But _how_?" Sabola breathily mumbled, eyes wide in shock. "DJ K reported it already."

"Maybe he just knew what direction they were headed in, or the Doom Riders were bragging about it beforehand," Khalid snarled. "Either way, I'm gonna tear them to shreds."

His exhaustion was forgotten, replaced with rage as he watched three of them file in, stepping between the obelisks at the entrance and then launching themselves down onto the illuminated walkway leading to the square. The closer they got, the easier it was to make them out: pudgy fellows in too-tight leather, with blinding yellow accents and tacky flame print shooting up their jackets. The visors of their helmets were lowered, obscuring their faces, but he could see the eyes of the leader as he glided in: cold, almost lifeless.

Bystanders screamed as they screeched to a halt, sparks spraying from the ground. A woman in white capris almost tumbled over the edge, saved by a peculiarly-dressed man in a top hat who pulled her back toward the middle. A teenager dropped her cell phone and let out the most obnoxious scream Khalid had ever heard, earning her a violent toss from a slightly thinner Doom Rider standing at the leader's side.

"Son of a bitch," Ishaq growled, frozen in terror. "I ain't seen those dudes in person since the Rhinos."

"And you're never gonna see 'em again after this," Khalid rumbled, face contorted into a look of pure hate as he clenched his fists, glaring at the leader who surveyed the park like he owned it. It was infuriating to see a guy he didn't even know stroll in so nonchalantly and just give off the vibe that this place was _his_. _Khalid_ was the Pharaoh, and he wasn't going to let some tub-of-lard waltz in and change that.

Sabola recognized the look on his face but, yet again, was far too slow to catch him. For as weak as he had been, their boss was now a seething mass of adrenaline and hate, moving so quick that the Doom Riders had no idea that he was coming until a fist landed in the gut of the first one he grabbed. The poor bastard was sent flying back from the force, though he hardly seemed to react to it. Instead, he looked up and let out a weird bellow, before lunging forward to snag his attacker.

Khalid dodged out of the way, staggering as it dawned on him that he probably wasn't in the best condition to fight. That didn't stop him from taking a swing at their leader, his knuckles connecting with a satisfying crunch as he landed a blow on what bit of his face was exposed. He could see blood trickle from the surprisingly unresponsive leader's mouth, just before he caught a glimpse of his gloved fist. It came toward him so fast that Khalid knew he couldn't dodge it...

... Then he felt something pull him backwards. It stopped a mere inch from his nose, him turning back to see Ishaq, wild-eyed and panting, gazing up at the Doom Riders with so much fear that one would imagine he was facing the zombie apocalypse. One of the subordinate Riders lashed out toward him with a terrifying cackle, Ishaq flailing and falling backwards as Odji sprang forth.

For as short and scrawny as Odji was, he had the spirit of a badger with rabies. The rival Rudy had no idea what to think when a bald, heavily tattooed runt sailed through the air at him, hands up like a pouncing tiger while screaming like a banshee. He threw all of his weight onto the guy, taking him down to his back and laying on him with punch after punch until his knuckles bled. Aside from a few "oofs" and the sound of cracking plastic, there was really no reaction from Odji's prey.

Rather than be disturbed by that, he just took it as a challenge. He was _not_ going to stop until the Doom Rider screamed.

Khalid turned and helped Ishaq to his feet, just as he felt something grab a hold of his shoulder and pull him back. This time, it wasn't any of his boys, but the first Doom Rider he had laid into. The snarling face of the biker was almost completely darkened behind his tinted visor, though he could hear a strange growl gurgling from the back of the man's throat. Khalid answered his growl with his own roar, raising up his foot and planting it directly into the dude's groin, throwing off his own balance though he successfully managed to pull out of his opponent's grasp.

Before the fight could continue, Sabola finally overcame his shock and entered the fray, the sound of a shaking aerosol can filling the air. He jumped between Khalid and the Doom Rider who seemed to have it out for him, holding up a can of golden paint and cackling, "Come on, asshole. I _dare_ you to touch the Pharaoh again!"

His dare was answered when the leader grabbed him. His shriek of alarm distracted Odji long enough for his victim to kick him off, staggering to his feet and returning to his boss' side. Ishaq only screamed along with Sabola as his paint clattered to the ground, Khalid standing motionlessly in terror as the can rolled to his feet.

Sabola kicked and flailed as bystanders watched in horror, the Immortal thrashing as the Riders' boss tightened his grip around his throat. He choked out an idle threat and dug his nails into the guy's arm, though they were not long or sharp enough to be felt through his thick leather jacket. He seemed to grow weaker and weaker with each second that ticked by, suffocating in the iron fist of the invaders' boss.

Khalid couldn't take it. Reaching down and scooping up the aerosol can, he lunged forth and stuck the actuator up under the rival's visor. He didn't even give a warning before he let loose with a burst of paint, the Doom Rider letting Sabola fall and staggering back with a squall.

There were no orders given, no words exchanged. The leader turned tail and, as quickly as they came, they were gone. Sabola gasped for air on the ground, watching them as they sped away, the leader _somehow _knowing which way to go despite being blinded. Ishaq shuddered, and Odji responded to the whole incident by grumbling that they were a bunch of cowards.

Khalid looked down at Sabola, then at the paint in his hand, and then let out a deep, shaking, angry breath. As silently as his rival had departed, so did he, tearing toward the overpass and taking chase after them.

Odji's shoulders slumped as he looked at Ishaq for an explanation. Ishaq just stood, jaw agape, mumbling, "Dude's crazy."

"That's our Pharaoh, numb nuts. Don't talk about him like that."

"He's our Pharaoh, and he's _crazy_. D-did you see those guys? They didn't even feel us hittin' 'em."

"_We_ hit 'em. You did nothing."

"I saved our crazy-ass Pharaoh from a broken nose."

Sabola shakily rose from the ground with a hiss of pain, watching as Khalid turned the corner and disappeared in the direction of 99th Street. He had known the guy for years, so he knew he wasn't to be surprised by such a rash decision. It was the same kind of choice that got them tangled up with the Golden Rhinos, something he did _not_ want to repeat again. Rubbing his throat, he turned to the younger Rudies, coughed, and finally croaked, "Let's go get our crazy-ass Pharaoh before he gets us all killed."

"See!" Ishaq snapped. "I _told _you he was crazy!"

"Ishaq?"

"Yeah, Sab?"

"_Shut up."_


	5. The Spectators

Tornado was up on her toes, teetering on the divide, trying to climb up on the walls, and basically doing everything in her power to see if she could catch a glimpse of _anything_. She never seemed to notice that her fellow 99ers were more interested in her than any prospective fight, as she danced impatiently on the divide and insisted that she _swore_ she saw the Doom Riders come this way on the way to The Border. Nobody else had caught wind of them, of course, but she was positive she had seen red scarves and leather turn the corner right before they reached the imaginary line between territories.

"I swear on mom's future grave that I saw them," she quarreled when she noticed a mocking smile on her sister's lips. "I'm serious! I saw them! They were there, and...!"

"I believe you," Twister snorted. "I mean, just the other day, I saw the leader of the Doom Riders rockin' out with DJ K on the corner outside of Fruit Bats."

A screaming argument ensued, the twins jamming their fingers into one another's chest and shrieking about how the other was a bitch or a liar or, as Tornado announced, an insufferable slut. Zephyr looked to Blitz worriedly, expecting the leader to break it up, but was answered with a shake of the head. Tornado and Blitz had been two of the original members of Rapid 99, back before their old leader took off; she knew enough about them to know not to stand between them.

"Yeah, well, you're ugly!" Twister shrieked.

Tornado recoiled before barking, "We're identical twins! If I'm ugly, so are you!"

"I will gladly be ugly for the rest of my life if it means you never get laid, you fuckin' ogre!"

Their cat fight continued longer than it should have, before the sound of scratchy laughing floated down the freeway. Blitz almost missed it, the cackling drowned out by Twister's insistence that Tornado was adopted, a point that cycled back around to the inevitable "we're twins" portion of the spat. Twister was about to respond with some undoubtedly idiotic save when she finally heard it too, the duo falling silent as they turned their attention to the direction of the noise.

Zephyr shifted uneasily, watching as Blitz rose up from where she sat on the divide, leaning as far as she could to her right to try to see around the turn in the road. The youngest 99er fumbled for a can of paint in the bag tossed around her shoulder, finally turning up a pretty pink that she decided would be good enough to humiliate whoever was dumb enough to try to mess with their gang.

"Did that...?"

"Yeah," Blitz replied, cutting Tornado off, "that sounded like one of those helmet-wearing fuckers."

"Or an Immortal," Twister spat. "They sound stupid, too."

Blitz shook her head. That laugh didn't come from an Immortal. It was too _normal_ to come from an Immortal. It lacked that distinct, Crypt Keeper rasp that could only be achieved by having irreparable vocal cord damage. Taking a deep breath, she slowly glided to the opposite end of the road, desperately trying to peek around the corner to see if she could catch a glimpse of what was going on.

The voices were getting louder, closer. She inhaled deeply and took a few cautious steps forward, when the smell of smoke and the loud "whoosh" of a booster filled the air. She could see them turning around the bend, flames rushing from tacky yellow skates as they jetted straight through her girls. Zephyr let out a shocked scream and tumbled over the divide. Twister and Tornado were pushed into one another, Tornado shooting up almost immediately afterward and screaming every obscenity she had ever learned into the night air.

Blitz was almost positive that it had to be the Doom Riders. She had never seen them, but they matched the "biker" description that people threw around, with the helmets and leather and the pants so tight that they probably (fortunately) could no longer reproduce. Or, at least_ most _of them did. The group seemed to consist of a lanky, shaggy straggler who seemed much angrier than the group he was tailing.

Her brows furrowed as she they passed, watching them as they vanished down the highway towards her own turf. She was paralyzed with shock, her underlings waiting for her orders as she allowed herself a moment to let everything sink in. Inhaling deeply, she opened her mouth to speak, but never got a word out before something zipped past her and knocked her off balance.

She staggered and looked up to see a group of three, plainly dressed guys rush past, moving so fast that almost all of their features were obscured. She almost passed them off as renegades until she noticed the glint of gold on their feet, with glowing blue accents that served as a dead giveaway. Her lips curled into a snarl as she clenched her fist, turned to her girls, and roared, "Those were the fuckin' Immortals!"

"The Immortals?" Zephyr echoed, arching an eyebrow. "Blitz, ain't the Immortals like... _zombies_ or some shit?"

Tornado huffed a laugh and patted her on the shoulder, drawling as she watched the group vanish, "You're so green that it's almost cute, kid."

"No, they ain't zombies," Twister sighed, cracking her knuckles. "Just a bunch of twigs with more balls than brains."

"Should we go get 'em?" Tornado asked, looking up to where Blitz once stood.

Their leader was already gone.


	6. The Trespass

Sabola wasn't sure why Ishaq had been surprised by their leader's actions. Khalid wasn't known to be the most rational person in the world, and had as much forethought as a rhinoceros. When he got mad, _he got mad_, and everything else ceased to matter. _That_ was why Sabola was around: he was the realist. He knew what to do that would benefit the whole, and he knew what to say to make the Pharaoh realize he was about to do something fucking ridiculous.

_Usually_. Not in this particular case, perhaps, or in the case of the Golden Rhino debacle, but _usually_.

"Sab, do you see him?" a voice called from behind. Ishaq, he guessed, though he could barely make it out. It was far more likely to be him than Odji. Heaving so hard that he couldn't talk, Sabola shook his head in response and continued down the highway, legs numb and heart pounding so furiously that he couldn't even hear the rush of wind around him.

Where was Khalid? He had seen him before they took the curve, and now he was gone. The last time this happened, it didn't end pretty. It ended with a group of men in trench coats waiting around the bend, with a pistol to Khalid's head and a rifle in his gut. What if he turned the next corner and found that the Doom Riders had shanked their leader or something? Would they do that?

They seemed kind of crazy. They showed up, never even issued so much as a challenge, and almost strangled him. He had _never_ fought a fellow Rudy that tried to _kill_ the opposition. Knock 'em out, freak 'em out, or throw 'em out, yes, but _murder_? What the hell was wrong with those guys?

So lost in thought was he, that he didn't even notice Odji right next to him until the younger Immortal nudged him with his elbow. The shock caused him to slow, stumble, and nearly eat asphalt, but Odji snagged him by the sleeve and pulled him ahead and upright. No words were exchanged; he just jerked his head in the direction they were heading in, and when Sabola lifted his head, he could see flashing lights and strands of pink, and the head of a dragon peeking up over the side of the overpass.

They were on 99th Street. He had been so consumed with trying to catch Khalid, he hadn't even noticed that they had been dragged clean into rival territory.

And there, on the stretch of overpass overlooking Benten Tower, were Khalid and the Doom Riders. They weren't fighting. The "blinded" Doom Rider had one foot on the flashing fire that connected the dragon's head to the road, his visor lifted though they were standing so far away that he couldn't make out any details. His two flunkies stood at his side, fists raised as though they were about to go at it.

Khalid had overestimated just how much he could take so soon after being released from captivity. He was keeled over, one hand on his knee and another wrapped around his aching ribs. His body heaved, and his wheezing could be heard from where his underlings stood. Still, he seemed to be trying to hold his ground.

The poor guy didn't stand a chance.

"Son of a...!"

Sabola skidded to a stop. Odji, who still had a hold on his arm, lost his footing and came down with a shriek. Ishaq, who obviously hadn't been paying attention, crashed into Sabola's back with a chilling "pop" that caused the older Rudy to cringe. When he turned, the rookie was clutching his nose in a tell-tale manner. He sounded congested when he looked up hopefully and asked, "Did you find him?"

"Yes," Sabola croaked, shifting his weight uneasily as Ishaq moved his hand away from his nose to assess the damage. A trickle of blood zigzagged its way from his nostril, and with a groan, he wiped his aching schnoz on his sleeve; thank Osiris he was wearing black. Reaching into his pocket with shaking hands, he hurriedly pulled out a piece of stray gauze and tore a bit off with his teeth.

"So why did we stop?" he asked as he wadded the bit of cloth up between his fingers and crammed it up his nostril. Sabola didn't even have time to admit he was scared before Khalid let out a raspy roar of anger and lunged at his adversaries. The second-in-command cursed loudly and bolted forward, Odji staggering uneasily to his feet and slowly hobbling along behind him. Ishaq squirmed and toyed with the idea of running, but, in the end, his loyalty to the Pharaoh won.

As he approached, he watched as the Rider's leader grabbed Khalid by the hair of the head and threw him into the railing. The Pharaoh tried to shake it off, clambering up awkwardly to his feet, bleeding and gritting his teeth. He had no idea what to think when he saw their half-crazed leader immediately try to attack again, throwing a badly-aimed punch that opened him up for a blow that brought him to his knees. He fell to his side on the concrete, groaning, but before the other bikers could get too many kicks in on him, Sabola sprang forth like a tiger and snagged one around the throat.

It was almost comical, watching scrawny Sabola hanging off of a burly biker like a backpack, but the humor vanished when Sabola was crushed between said biker and a concrete wall. Seeing no other way to weasel away from the predicament, he clicked his skates against his attacker's leg. There was a loud rush of air and a flash of orange and red as the boost kicked in for a split second, just long enough to scare the assailant into moving. Sabola unwrapped his arms from the Doom Rider's throat and fell to the ground, scampering to Khalid's aid as the Pharaoh grabbed onto the divide and slowly pulled himself upright.

Ishaq watched as the head biker lurched forward, obviously intending to snag Sabola and finish what he had started at Pharaoh Park. Panic seized him, and adrenaline overrode whatever common sense he had. The rookie jetted ahead, passing a stunned Odji, and before he could even really realize what it was he was doing, he had plowed right into the leader's side.

It didn't do much, admittedly. Doom Riders are big. Immortals aren't. He may have put all of his weight into the tackle, but it did about as much good as slamming him with a heavy purse. The biker stumbled, caught himself, turned, and slammed an elbow into the rookie. Ishaq let out a squall as it connected with his already injured nose, falling to his knees.

He could feel the big guy looming over him, closing in like a wolf. A mixture of fear and anger stirred up within him, and with a loud, angry cry, Ishaq snagged him by the ankle and pulled as hard as he could. The Doom Rider cursed―admittedly the first word he had heard from the jerk―and came down like a towering tree, head bouncing off of the asphalt as a sickening crunch rang throughout the air.

Had he broke his jaw? Ishaq certainly hoped so. That guy was an _asshole_.

However, it wasn't enough to deter the other opponents. Annoyed, they began to close in, Khalid restrained by Sabola, and Odji, stunned by the fact that Ishaq had _actually_ done something, frozen in his tracks. Fear flooded the rookie yet again as he realized he was about to be on the receiving end of a beat down he was going to be lucky to walk away from and, covering his head, he waited for the first blow.

"Hey! You! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

A female voice, angry and loud, came from the direction they had come from. The leader of the Doom Riders immediately seemed to recognize it and dug his palms into the ground and pushed himself to his feet. He averted his gaze from the others and lowered his visor, his jaw hanging slack in an utterly disgusting way. His cronies backed away from the youngest Immortal, heads rising like frightened meerkats as they stared in the direction of the noise.

All at once, as though it were choreographed, they began laughing. The way it was so in sync made Ishaq's skin crawl, even after they climbed onto the dragon's snout and descended into the blinding pink lights of 99th Street. He could hear them even as they vanished from sight, dodging into the crowds and turning a corner towards the abandoned site of Rokkaku's incomplete stadium.

The Immortals were silent and utterly still. Khalid looked at his underlings, equally angry and ashamed that he had to be saved by the guys who called him "king." Sabola patted him on the back reassuringly and slid to the ground, exhausted, twining his fingers into his hair and letting out a deep sigh of relief. Ishaq was just frozen and silent, unable to even climb to his feet.

Odji, however, wasted no time in barking, "I have no idea what the hell just happened."

"Neither do I."

Odji spun around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, only to find himself face-to-face with a pale, blue-haired girl. For a moment, he considered saying something he probably shouldn't have, but when she was joined by three nearly-identical ladies with fishnets and fake nails, he decided to cut his losses. He fumbled with his words, took a step back, and looked to Sabola to see if _he_ had any idea how to handle this.

Before anyone could say anything, however, Khalid announced, "That guy was like Frankenstein's monster, man. That guy was not right."

All eyes turned to him as he slowly shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. His anger and embarrassment was now swirled with what seemed to be gradual panic. Sabola looked up worriedly and hoisted himself to his feet. He didn't need to ask for clarification before Khalid loudly repeated, "That guy was some sort of _freak_."

"Like you're one to talk," one of the 99ers snapped. Before she could be stopped, she was stomping in his direction. Sabola tried to step between them, but was violently shoved aside, the hot pink nails of the 99er soon shoved into Khalid's chest. He flinched―he had been banged up enough that everything hurt―but said nothing as she pressed her face up to his and began screaming.

"Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, huh?" she snarled. With every syllable, she rammed her fingers harder and harder into his sternum, watching with sadistic pleasure as he cringed. Odji, however, was not nearly as pleased. Taking a deep breath, he lashed out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the Pharaoh and whirling her towards himself. Khalid rubbed his chest and groaned as the other 99ers closed in like hyenas, glaring at his gang like they had just committed the ultimate wrong.

In a way, they had. Trespassing was kind of a big deal.

"Who the fuck are _we_?" Odji laughed, a menacing grin growing on his face. "We're the Immortals. You should've known that, 99er. And _you_ are?"

"Pissed off!"

"I gathered that."

With that, the 99er wrenched her hand away and turned all of her fury toward Odji, launching into a fit of screaming and cursing that seemed to catch even her underlings off guard. The other gals just glanced at one another, then the beaten Immortals, then off into the direction that the Doom Riders had fled. There was a moment or two of mumbling, one of them daring to question whether or not her boss was currently screeching at the right gang. The inquiry was met with a harsh stare, followed by louder yelling.

Khalid only watched, bemused. Had they seriously just missed the fact that the Doom Riders dove headfirst into their domain? Swallowing hard, he finally yanked the Rapid 99er away from Odji by the back of her jacket and snarled, "If you yell at somebody, you yell at me. I'm the Pharaoh. That said, you have some sort of gods-damned freak runnin' loose on your turf. More pressing matter than screaming at a guy who dresses like a dead man on weekends, eh?"

"Don't you touch me!"

She thrashed around and planted a slap across his face, which Khalid answered with a low, raspy laugh and an unnerving grin. Leaning down, nose-to-nose with her, he slowly laughed, "Spitfire, ain't we?"

"Who do you think you are, trespassing on Rapid 99 territory?"

"I'm Khalid. The Doom Riders fucked with me. I would have chased them as far as Shibuya given half the chance. Ain't nothing personal, bluebell."

"Bluebell?" the 99er shrieked, preparing for another blow. Sabola yelped and grabbed her hand before it could connect, calmly urging her to reconsider. She glared at him as though attempting to wish him dead, though Sabola tried desperately not to let it affect him.

In the most level voice he could manage, he croaked, "Let's just be civil here, shall we?"

"He called me 'bluebell!'"

"And he calls me worse, and I'm his _ally_. Chill, lady."

She didn't seem amused, but she seemed to calm down, if only a hair. Khalid turned away from her, looking down at Ishaq and at a visibly annoyed Odji. Sniffing, he announced to nobody in particular, "Swear to Ra, if I get my hands on that freaky fuck, the last thing he's gonna see before he wakes up at Inpu's feet is my gods-damned fist."

"We were attacked," Sabola interjected, before the Rapid 99ers had a chance to respond. Positioning himself between the Pharaoh and the Queen of 99th Street, he weakly laughed, "Khalid just got out of the Rhino's zoo, so he wasn't really _aware_ of just how sensitive things have gotten. He just knew that those dudes showed up with the intent of stealing The Kingdom, and he's not necessarily known for being a calm, sensible person."

"That's no excuse," the 99er growled. "Do you know who I am?"

"'Pissed Off,' apparently," Odji jokingly replied from behind them. Ishaq, worried about how the girls would respond to the stab, elbowed him rather violently in the ribs. As Odji clutched his sides and fell to his knees, Sabola nodded a silent "thanks" as the rival Rudy grabbed him by his collar and violently yanked him nose-to-nose with her.

"I'm Blitz. I'm the _leader_ of Rapid 99. And I am _sick as shit_ of people waltzing all over my turf like it's an extension of their own. Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't knock every tooth in your head out, buck."

"We already did!" Khalid roared. "The Doom Riders are _in your territory right now_! Technically, we aren't. We're on the gods-damned overpass! This is neutral ground!"

"It's only neutral ground when you aren't dragging your business onto it!"

"If anyone dragged anything anywhere, it was those fuckin' bikers who tried to choke the shit out of my right-hand man and took off running! If anything, we were doing you a favor by trying to stop those helmet-heads before they had a chance to ruffle your feathers!"

"Well, you've done enough ruffling, dude," one of the lesser 99ers replied, now a bit more understanding than she had been a second ago. She approached their leader and placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her away from Sabola and jerking her head over her shoulder in a silent gesture for the Immortals to get going. Blitz reacted with more than a touch of hostility, before inhaling deeply and barking to her remaining underlings, "Tornado! Twister! Get out there and find those assholes before I do, because if I find them? I'll fucking kill them."

"Not if they kill you first," Khalid snarled as he glided past her. "These guys are out for blood. They would have murdered Sabola, and Ishaq, too, if they got a proper hand on him. You're an idiot if you don't think they'll pull the same shit if they catch you."

This seemed to quiet Blitz, who froze like a statue as Khalid vanished from view. Sabola groaned and took off after him, alternating between apologies to Rapid 99 and demands that the Pharaoh slow down. Odji glowered at the rival gang and sped after his crew, secretly thankful that he was getting away without a thrashing.

Ishaq, ever the apologetic one, stood there with his bleeding nose and bruised face, twiddling his thumbs. It was a struggle to get the words out, with his sentence starting from six different directions at the same time. After a moment to bring it all together, he stammered, "I-I-I'm sorry, yo. U-uh, if there is anything w-we can do to pr-prove we mean no harm..."

"You can get the hell off of my property," Blitz coolly replied, watching as Ishaq's eyes widened. He nodded so fast and so hard that it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash, then dashed away in a flash of fire and the smell of diesel.

"Should we still go find the Doom Riders, boss?" Tornado asked weakly, obviously shaken. Blitz swallowed hard and shook her head.

"No. No, let's just go back to the Tower. It's been a long day."


End file.
